


Desperate Times

by Caiti (Caitriona_3)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - The Purge Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22741879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/Caiti
Summary: In times like these, it never hurts to have an unexpected hero.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 29
Kudos: 122
Collections: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019, MCU Kink Bingo Round 4





	Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liebekatze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liebekatze/gifts).



> Squares filled:
> 
> Ladies of Marvel Bingo - O1 - AU: Flower shop  
> MCU Kink Bingo - O4 - Character is a damsel in distress
> 
> I might carry this out farther one day if the muses go for it, but for now, here you go.

[ ](https://imgur.com/npbQSjf)

_The noir hero is a knight in blood caked armor. He's dirty and he does his best to deny the fact that he's a hero the whole time._

_~Frank Miller_

Darcy Lewis locked the safe in the office and hurried through the rest of her closing process. She didn’t have time for any delays today. Jane Foster, her best friend in all the world, had invited her to come stay with her for the night, but she needed to get there before seven. Otherwise Stark Tower would lock down under all but impenetrable defenses until tomorrow morning. Being caught outside tonight would be tantamount to suicide.

_Hell of a world we live in these days._

She should have just closed her flower shop for the day, but . . . she needed the income to make her rent. Despite the threat of the coming danger, everyone flocked to buy the blue flowers for their doors, balconies, and porches. 

People wanted to show their patriotism.

Checking her watch as she left her shop, Darcy breathed a sigh of relief. She had a little cushion of time, so even if the trains were late, she should still reach Stark Tower by seven.

“Look at the pretty lady running for a train.”

A quick glance proved she had drawn the attention of some of the local toughs. Male and female, all with hard eyes and smirking mouths, they stared at her. None of them moved towards her, not with the police presence still hanging around, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t give her grief.

“Better hurry back to your cage, pretty bird,” one of the females taunted. “Not long until the leashes come off.”

She ignored them, nodding to the two police officers who kept a close eye on the group. One of them, the male, lifted his arm and tapped his watch. Offering him a weak smile, she added a little more speed to her steps as she rushed towards the subway station. The last train headed to Grand Central would be leaving in five minutes.

Making the train, Darcy slumped into a seat with a sigh of relief. They should reach the final station in thirty minutes and then she just needed to hop the escalator straight into the tower.

_Safe haven . . . thirty minutes to safe haven._

“Well, well, well . . . shouldn’t you be locked away somewhere safe by now?”

At the question, she glanced up to find another group watching her. Crime rates might have plummeted since her childhood thanks to the new system, but that didn’t mean the threat had vanished. Instead, people seemed to hold themselves back until they could cut loose without any consequences. Nobody on the train spoke; no one wanted to draw attention to themselves. For her part, Darcy kept her head down and did her best to ignore the ongoing comments. 

Her belly churned at some of the ideas tossed around – everything from a beating to murder, and other ideas somewhere in between that frightened her more. Not that all of their ideas centered on her. No, they seemed open to any target, but they remained on the train as people got off at each stop along the way. Only a few of the passengers rode all the way to Grand Central.

As did the gang of bullies.

The group followed the passengers off the train but zeroed in on her as the others headed towards 42nd street. As the only solo person, she would be the easier target. So, they dogged her steps as she scurried towards the escalators that would take her directly into Stark Tower. 

“What’s your hurry, bitch?”

She glanced back, anxiety swirling in her gut, and then tripped to a stop as they managed to encircle her. The clock inside her head continued to count down – tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Part of Darcy wanted to pull out one of her Tasers, but she could only take out one, maybe two of them. What would she do about the rest of them?

“Come on, sweetheart,” one of the men smirked, reaching out to touch a lock of her hair. He curled the hair around his finger and gave it a tug. “You play nice for us and maybe we keep you alive tonight, yeah?”

“Leave her alone.”

All eyes shifted towards the warning voice and Darcy blinked at the sight of the man standing there. Brock Rumlow; she recognized him from previous visits to the tower. He worked for Stark as security of some kind, but she’d always found him to be a gentleman, in spite of the rough edges. It didn’t hurt that she also considered him beyond sexy. Her shoulders relaxed when his gaze met hers, the relief almost turning her knees to water. A thread of warmth flickered there before icing over as he turned back to the people threatening her. Despite the cold mask, he looked relaxed and loose as he watched them, a wolf gauging his prey.

“Unless you’ve got a death wish, you’ll want to pick another target.”

“Can’t touch us for five more minutes,” one of them taunted.

“I’m licensed.” A cruel smile curved that hard mouth. “So yes, I can.”

They shifted, pulling back as they eyed him with uncertainty. Despite their swagger and bluster, they recognized a threat. One of them reached for her and Brock exploded into action, his strength unleashed as he lunged forward. She found herself pushed to one side as he punched, kicked, and beat back her attackers. Several of them ended up on the ground, some so still that she caught her breath, while the others escaped and ran. 

Darcy stared at her rescuer with wide eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured, her breath a little short . . . and not with terror. She should not be finding his bloody knuckles so much of a turn-on. Time ticked on . . . the sands of the hourglass continued to pour out . . . and here she stood wondering how much of that restrained power he would show in bed.

_Down, girl._

“You’re welcome.” He walked over to her, his movements slow and unthreatening. One hand, already beginning to darken with bruises, reached out to take her arm. An electric shiver raced through her body from the point of contact. “Come on, _cara_ , time to go.”

A loud siren broke the silence.

“Oh, damn.” Darcy’s lips trembled as her fear returned, bringing a burning to her eyes. She blinked as tears pricked at her eyes. “Too late.”

“This is not a test.” 

A woman’s voice filled the air, the flat electronic sound of it belying the death and destruction to follow. Tremors began to run through Darcy’s frame as Brock’s mouth thinned into a line. His dark brown eyes swept the street even as his hold slid down her arm to her hand. “We have to go.” Fingers tightening on hers, he led her out of the building and towards a nearby alley. “Now.”

She scuttled after him. “Go where?” she demanded, a little breathless as one part of her mind listened to the continuing broadcast.

“This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., when The Purge concludes.”

“I hate that woman’s voice,” Brock muttered, pulling her into the shadows. His eyes kept moving, tracking any and all movement. “We’re going to have to find shelter . . . or at least somewhere more defensible.”

“I’ve only got my Tasers.”

“Don’t worry, _cara_. I’ll get you through – one way or another.”

“Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn,” the unknown woman’s voice finished. “May God be with you all.”


End file.
